Archive for the ‘Purpose’ Category


When all else fails

And I get nothing

But you,

Just give me

A lifetime of things to do.

Tonight I write of nonsensical matters that may be of importance to me. I write about sleep and how it is supposed to be utilized at this very hour. I write about the days I would sleep in the wee hours of a new day because of too much thinking. I write about those made-up encounters I have of you in my daydreams. I write about weakness, the sadness of not being able to do anything to help. I write about how missing Sunday sermons is a step closer into damnation. I write about regretting what had transpired in that one drunken September night. I write about my brother who just decided to sleep on his bed at the other side of the room and how he always manages to goad me in telling him stories about how my day went or how my friends’ days went. I write about my aching legs–of how sore they are at this very moment (the side leg lifts are finally paying off!) I write about university applications and how I have been stressing myself for the past few months because of it. I write about fear of not being able to accomplish anything for any person who may be of great inspiration to me. I write about my father who still loves me even if I raise my voice while talking to him most of the time. (I am not proud of that. And I am gravely sorry.) I write about the light of my life, my nanay, and how she manages to do her crazy dances even if she struggles to make all ends meet. I write about how angry I am at myself for not doing what I am supposed to be doing on my spare time (e.g. looking for scholarships and zumba!) I write about how bad beers taste and how my heart palpitates when I drink coffee. I write about crunches, squats, lunges, stretches, and hoping that writing just the names of the said exercises could magically burn the same amount of calories as actually doing them. I write about how unfair life can become when you’ve wasted days of being absolutely the opposite of what you truly are. I write about how surprise birthday parties bring a torrent of tears down your cheeks and make everyone invited in the event realize how people actually care about you. I write about wishes granted on St. Patrick’s Day (I guess luck’s on your side today, my darling.) I write about shitty ball game seats and the not-so-anticipated no-booze night in my second Raptors game next Friday. I write about my Ryerson acceptance and  how I can’t wait to start school on the fall season.


Tonight, I write about myself and how I am content with the words my brain and my fingers had just weaved together. (Even if my heart agrees to disagree.)

There is still fire left in me, after all. 


Just tired.

Maybe because life is just one big routine. Wake up. Exercise a little. Leave for work. Work. Leave work. Come home. Sleep.

Maybe because every single day is just one set of scripted “may I help yous” to those people who don’t (most of the time) even appreciate your kindness.

Maybe because finishing something may mean bouts of withdrawal which could lead to moments of despair.

Maybe because seeing familiar faces hinder you from meeting new people who might, most likely, change your life.

Maybe because smiling isn’t what it is all about anymore. Could you imagine being paid to just smile and act pretty in front of customers who look at you as if you are beneath them when you don’t hear any word they said because they were whispering their orders to the empty air? Smiling, definitely, has just lost its purpose to make people feel good about themselves.

Or maybe… just because.

_ _ _


Someone stabbed somebody at Dundas West Station yesterday. I didn’t even know there were lots of police officers (and the media) just outside my workplace until customers asked me about what had happened. I didn’t know anything until my managers informed us.

Will it all boil down to this? 

There lies a person, bleeding from multiple stabs, just two flights of stairs away. The man was taken to the hospital. The police came to investigate. The media came to cover the incident.

Everything lasted while we were taking customers orders, putting on fake smiles, and bidding them goodbye. And still, no one (from work) knew until other people started asking.

Are we really that caught up in that little world we put ourselves into? Maybe. Maybe not. 

February 17, 2013

Yesterday marked the second year I have been living in Canada. When I woke up, I was expecting my family to remember but apparently, they didn’t. I was sad but I didn’t remind them about it.

Yesterday made me remember everything that I’ve been missing these past two years. And with everything, I mean those people who really mattered to me in the years. Or so I thought.

Yesterday made me thankful that I am where I stand now. I have people who love me despite my weirdness.

Yesterday made me happy that my family (even if they forgot how important this day is to us) has grown stronger and closer to each other. And because of that I know that we will continue to conquer all the challenges that we may face in the future.

Yesterday marked the day I realized how important it is to have people care for you and vice versa.

I guess we’ve been so busy but somehow, people always manage find time for the ones they deem important. I have been wanting to say these words to three people but it’s getting more and more impossible with our clashing time zones and different schedules. So here it goes…

  • Reading all of the online messages we have exchanged in the past two years made me realize that you will always be in my life no matter what happens. I know that I disappointed you when I didn’t even bother to show up when you needed me the most. I am sorry. I never wanted to be selfish but at that time, I was scared (too scared) to see what have you have brought into being. To add more pain to the one I already caused, I just left without saying goodbye. I am very sorry. I should have known that you, of all people, are the closest thing I have to a soulmate. Parting brought such a sweet sorrow that sometimes I just want to come back and make up for the things I have done wrong. Believe me when I say that your home will be the first home we will stay in when we go back in the Philippines. And don’t forget that I miss and love you (forever and always), soulsister.
  • Sometimes I wonder if you have changed a lot because it seems like every time we talk, you sound more experienced than before. It is true that with time comes experience but I seem to have frozen the times when I used to call you and ask if you could stay with me. You have always been there for me and I will forever be grateful for that. Now, I can’t help but hear the tiredness that is masked by your smiling face as I talk to you. You have never sounded that way before. I guess pain can age you in ways you could not imagine. Nevertheless, know that I will always be a message away if you need someone to talk to. I will always be your trustworthy confidant. I remember the time when you said I never fail to say things that sadden you. I’ve felt guilty since. I promise you, this time, I’ll make you shed tears of joy or even shed none at all. I miss you, child.
  • What has made me forlorn these past weeks is the fact that we haven’t talked in what seemed like so many ages ago. I specifically remembered that it was you who said that reconnecting with old friends is one of your must-dos this year but I’m seeing none of that. I know that you have endless lists of responsibilities to finish until the semester ends but it never hurts to leave a “what’s up?” message on my inbox. You have been a constant part of my life back in Luzon [and I to yours] and I am, at the moment, morose that I will never a constant part of yours any time soon. You have done a lot for yourself and I am very proud of you but sometimes, I couldn’t bring myself to say that to you because I know, deep in my heart, that it won’t merit as much. I miss you, really miss you and I hope that we could be as gullible as we were before, love.

I know that some statements won’t make sense to some but it means the world to me. I really do miss you, best friends.


On a side note…(in the Bittersweet jewelry store)

“Don’t force yourself to get in touch with a person who doesn’t want to get in touch with you. It’s not worth it,” a friend told me yesterday. I am vainly trying to.

After all, I can’t always make the first move, right? 🙂 

There is an interconnectedness among members that bonds the family, much like mountain climbers who rope themselves together when climbing a mountain, so that if someone should slip or need support, he’s held up by the others until he regains his footing. -PHIL McGRAW, Family First








Happy 2nd year, Canada. ❤

February 16


This is a writing exercise I got from friends’ statuses on Facebook. I haven’t written in so long and this might be the best time to start writing again.

Age I was given: 8 by ate Ayrie and 19 by Reg 

Where I lived: 

8 years old- My family and I lived in this little place at the back of my grandfather’s compound in Bacolod. This is where I grew up.

19 years old– You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I lived in so many places when I was nineteen.

  • Bacolod City and Ma-ao Sugar Central- My father, brother and I lived there from January to mid-February as we were getting ready to leave for Canada.
  • Sofia Bellevue Condo, Old Balara, Quezon City- Tatay, Gio, and I stayed there for three days prior to our immigration.
  • Yonge and Lawrence [apartment], Toronto, Ontario (February to August 2011) – This is where my family and I first stayed when we arrived in Canada.
  • Scarborough [townhouse], Ontario- My family and I lived there for a few months until we moved to the place where we’re living in now.

What I did: 

8 years old– I was in third grade. I spent most of my days borrowing Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew books from the St. Scho library. My teacher chose me to participate in this spelling bee contest. I got into the final round when I screwed up every word I had to spell. I remember changing “shrub” to “shURb” because spelling it “shRUb” made no sense to me. This is the year when my exam proctor and then-adviser reprimanded me because she said I was cheating on my math 4th quarter examination. I believe that I told her that I was only looking at the ceiling because I forgot how to solve this one problem. I think she believed me because she knew I was good at math. At that time, I didn’t even know what cheating was. My classmate and I got in trouble because the nuns who run our school caught my classmate and I inside their big rabbit cage. We said that we were only playing with the rabbits. I specifically remember that this one nun brought me to the chapel to pray as penance for what I have done.

19 years old– Left my dearest friends and family in Bacolod and Luzon. Migrated to Canada. Repeated the last year of high school again. Aced all my classes. Earned my first ever pay from babysitting. Got my first legit job at McDonald’s and received the Employee of the Month award after my probation period. Was promoted to Crew Trainer two months after probation. Decided to never ask my parents for money again (I’m quite proud of this.). Got a laptop and printer as my first investment. Met awesome people in high school. Went clubbing with work friends every month (we got tired of it after). Thought I had finally fallen in love. Realized that it (refer to previous statement) is not the same as actually falling in love.

What I drove:  8 years old – Drove myself crazy.

19 years old – Drove my parents crazy. (I wanted to put “drove a car” but then I would be lying. LOL)

Who had my heart:  8 years old—When I was young, I had the same crush as my dearest friend. I have never told her about this at all. :))

19 years old—I thought that he (let us not mention his name :]) had my heart at the moment. SO OLD NEWS. (If he can’t love me back then he’s not worth it.) J

AND OH, I remember this other guy who had my heart for about an hour. I don’t remember your face and your name but you made me feel special that September night. :))


I graduated secondary school (again) with an Ontario Scholar award which made my family proud of me. I had another work promotion (as Team Leader) and has been offered another one (Manager—which I decided not to accept) recently.

I started my book collection (again). I started reading good books (again). I started writing poems about love and poems about life (yet again.)

I have an awesome family and extraordinary friends who are always there for me (and vice versa). My family and I recently moved to another apartment where we met people who we now consider our extended family members.

I am waiting for universities to offer me admission.

I am currently waiting for March 1, 2013 (RAPTORS GAME!!) 😀

I am also waiting for love (with the right person this time) and all it has to give. 🙂

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